


christmas at the holmes manor

by liefdewint



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liefdewint/pseuds/liefdewint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are invited (forced) to spend their Christmas at the Holmes Manor. Only there is a small catch...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you prefer to read this in chinese, you can find it [here](http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=38054) and in Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/571483)  
> (I hope so, but I can't read Chinese or Russian, so I'm not sure. Let me know if it doesn't work)

“Sherlock please, just this one time. Mummy misses you. She told me to beg you to come. She hasn’t seen you in years. And she really wants to hear more about your lovely flat mate.”  John, the aforementioned flat mate had no clue why Mycroft used _the_ devilish grin at last part, but that was nothing new. He had been living with Sherlock Holmes for over a year and he was proud that he knew _most of the time_ what Sherlock was thinking. So why would he understand the oldest Holmes-brother who he only saw when he kidnaps him or, like now, comes to their flat with a proposition for Sherlock.  
“No, I won’t come. And don’t you dare playing the Mummy-card. I’ve spoken her last week, so she'll be fed up with me for another week.”

John sighed. It had been like this for the last hour: Mycroft was trying to persuade Sherlock to come celebrate Christmas at the Holmes Manor and Sherlock kept saying no. And John? He made tea. Lots of it.

“Do it for John.” Mycroft tried again. John had no clue Mycroft tried so hard, it’s not like he was fond of his little brother.  
“Why would I do John a favour by letting him alone on Christmas?”  
“You would do anybody who you let alone a favour.” Mycroft grinned but stopped when he got an angry look from John. Sherlock was his friend and he would stand up for him.  
“But what I really mean” Mycroft continued “is that Mummy invited John as well. And you wouldn’t deny John a fun holiday, would you? With someone else than Harry. Think how he would enjoy having a family dinner with our family.”  
John laughed. First of all because he found the image of Sherlock and Mycroft peacefully singing Christmas carols together ridiculous and secondly because Mycroft thought Sherlock would do something, just to do him a favour.  
“Fine.”  
John almost dropped his cup of tea. Sherlock hadn’t even agreed to come when Mycroft had treated to make Lestrade  stop calling him for murders, unless they were _really_ boring. So why would he go, just to please John. Like said before, that made no sense.  
“Sherlock, you don’t have to do this for me. I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas alone. You can go spend it with your family. I wouldn't mind some peaceful days, you know.”  
“John, I like you better than I like all my family together and I know that stupid party would be more tolerable if I knew that there was at least one person who appreciated me and listened to me when I make another incredible smart deduction.”  
John sighed again. Somehow Sherlock always managed to convince him to do something he actually didn’t want to do, in such a way that he made it sound even less appealing to John. But hey, who was he to deny anything the great Sherlock Holmes asked him.  
“Fine, we’ll go. But you better behave, or I’ll take the first train home and you can handle your family on your own.”

“Great. I’ll tell Mummy that you are coming.” Mycroft said and walked out. John was relieved that he had left without saying anything that would make him feel uncomfortable, like his usually does. But he should have known, that he was cheering to soon, because suddenly Mycroft stood back in the door and said “By the way, I was surprised to hear what you have told Mummy about John. I look forward to see if you can make her belief it when she sees you guys together.” And then he was really gone. John knew, because he felt uncomfortable.

“Sherlock,” John said, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought it would “what did you tell your mother about me that would make Mycroft to damn happy?”  
“John, promise me that you won’t freak out.” Sherlock started, and he seemed nervous. ‘Oh my God, it will be something terrible, if Sherlock is nervous.’ John thought.  
“What did you say?” he said now more urgent, he wanted to take it like a bandage.  
“Well, she was trying to find me a good boyfriend, like she does almost _every time_ I hear something from her, so I might have let it slip that we we're in a relationship.”  
"You let slip that we're in a relationship. We. In a relationship. A romantic one."  
"Yes John. I made myself perfectly clear the first time, there is no need to repeat it."

After that they were quiet for a couple of minutes before Sherlock asked "Well?"  
"Well what?"  
"Will you be my boyfriend. Just for the weekend." He quickly added, when he saw John was turning red.  
"What will happen if I say no?" John asked, already knowing he would say yes, but he wanted to make Sherlock realise what he had done and what the consequences would be.  
"Well, Mummy will be a _little_ bit angry, then she will try to couple me to one of her friend's daughter's best gay friend's ex-boyfriend; Mycroft will laugh with me and I would spend the entire weekend explaining to people why I haven't brought my boyfriend with me, who isn't actually my boyfriend, but just my flat mate. It would be really unpleasant."  
"Just unpleasant? That maybe I should let you suffer through it, just to teach you a lesson."  
"John, please"  
John knew that was as good as it was going to get, so he gave in.  
"Fine, but only if you promise me that _you_ will buy milk the next time we're out and you won't shoot any smiley faces in the wall for at least a month."  
Sherlock hesitated a minute, comparing one bad thing to another before coming to a decision. "Fine." He said with a pout, like _he_ was the one making a sacrifice. Then he seemed to think of something funny, because he added with a smile "boyfriend"

John sighed. What the hell did he sign in for?


	2. chapter 2

They were on the train. Their destination? The Holmes manor.  
By now, John was starting to feel nervous. How was he going to pretend to be Sherlock's boyfriend (or partner, which one sounded less pathetic? Oh who cares, whatever it is, he'll be pretending to be it, just so Sherlock wouldn't get mocked at the party. That alone was pathetic!) ?  
If he became to touchy feely, Sherlock would feel awkward and his family would, if they were anything like Sherlock or Mycroft, notice it. Then they would know that they weren't used to things like love or even affection towards each other.  
Then again, if he would keep the distance Sherlock would like him to keep, they would for sure find it strange that they didn't give each other any sign at all.  
God why did he ever say yes?

"John, stop it"  
John looked up. What had he done now?  
"You're thinking again"  
He sighed. "Yes Sherlock, in contrary of what you might think about me, my head isn't completely empty not is it blank. There are some thoughts in it, you know?"  
"I know John, but could you please stop thinking so loud. It's annoying."  
"Well, what _should_ we do about this situation then? How _should_ we act? Have you even given it one single thought at all, or was it a waste of time? Did you just deleted what we are supposed to act like when we arrive at your place?" John was getting really frustrated by now. Why had Sherlock even told his mother that _they_ were together? Couldn't he have taken Lestrade or someone else of the Yard, then there was at least the excuse of word. Of all the stupid things he could do.  
"I didn't chose Lestrade since Mycroft has taken a interest in him and not even I am that cruel. And for the other thing, I have given it some thought John and obviously, I haven't deleted it. I'll do that after this weekend has passed. "  
"Obvious. So what _do_ you suggest we do?"  
"Well I think we should sit next to each other, touch each other to much and smile when we are talking about each other. Which we should do just enough to annoy my family by it. Those are the actions that I have observed one does when one is in love. But since you are more familiar with emotions, what do you think?"  
Leave it to Sherlock to make emotions like love and attraction in to something scientific. But of course, he was right. "I think you've said it all. But are you comfortable with that?"  
"Well, I probably won't like it, but it will have to do and since I told my mother about 'us', it's actually necessary."

"John, maybe we should practice."  
"Mmh, what?" John had been dozing for the last hour, so he thought he had just misunderstood what Sherlock had said.  
"Well, like you may know, emotions aren't my area..."  
"Oh really, I haven't noticed" John mumbled, apparently he hadn't misunderstood what Sherlock had said.  
"No need to be sarcastic, all though it's actually called irony, but people always seem to mix those two up. Now about us practicing, I was just suggesting that I would come sit next to you and do the stuff we earlier discussed we would do. Just so we won't have to do it in front of my family for the first time. It would make it less awkward."  
"Sure, if you say so."  
"I indeed say so John."

And by that he stood up and moved to sit next to John. After about half an hour John was asleep again, but this time with his head on Sherlock's shoulder, who had put his arm around his blogger to sit a little bit more comfortable. He kissed the top of John's head out of a reflex almost, but Sherlock knew he would be lying if he said he didn't like it.


	3. chapter 3

John was looking for the cab that Sherlock had called in for sure, when he felt two arms sliding around his hips.  
"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?"  
He felt Sherlock's silent laugh more than he heard it, since Sherlock lips were against his ears, in a way that, judging by the surprised, disgusted and even some endearing looks their bystanders were giving them, made them look like a couple.  
"Shh, John" Sherlock whispered against his ear "Mummy has send her private driver to pick us up. We wouldn't give him a reason to doubt, now would we."  
John looked startled "Private driver? Where?"  
"John, it's the biggest car here, how can you miss it?"  
John's eye felt on the huge limousine that was standing across the road.  
"Sherlock, you are kidding me, right?"  
"Now John, why would I do that. No, and be happy it's the silver one and not the blue or the pink one."  
"Three limousines Sherlock? Your mother has three limousines?"  
"Well actually she has seven, but the others are also just plain black or white."  
"Oh right, black or white limousines, dull, not worth mentioning. Jesus Sherlock, why I am here?"  
"I told you, I like it when there is at least one person there to appreciate me the way it should."  
"It's not what I meant. Why did you want a flat mate."  
"Well it was an experiment."  
"Of course it was."  
"But then I realized that it was nice to have you around."  
"Of cou... wait, what? You like having me around? Since when?"  
"Since you shot the cabbie for me. I never thought you would kill to save someone you have only just met."  
By now, John had turned around to make it easier to communicate with Sherlock. Only Sherlock had kept his arms around his waist, so there wasn't much space between them.  
"If you say it like that, people will think I would kill anyone when given a reason."  
"Well why else did you kill him."  
"You haven't deduced it? There is a part of me that you can't figure out?"  
"John, the longer I know you, the less sense you make. You never do what I expect you to do."  
"Thank you, I guess."  
"So why did you shoot the cabbie."  
"Sherlock, it didn't take me that long to know that, no matter what your quirks are, you are a good person and the cabdriver was a bad person. It wasn't hard to decide which one would be a grater loss to the world."  
"Thank you."  
"Will you release me now, so we can go towards your dull, plain black limousine."  
Sherlock chuckled  
"Let's do that. If you find the limousine impressive, I can't wait until you see the house. I'll give you a hint: it's a little bit bigger than our home."

John laughed because Sherlock rare attempt to a joke. John smiled because he didn't notice how he called Baker street 'home' and his childhood house just 'the house'.

-xxx-

"Is that your house?"  
In front of him was a long lane. Through the branches he could see a white house off at least fifty metres.  The sides were covert in ivy. Leading to the front door, there were two side stairs and a little roof supported by six pillars.  
"Yes John, don't sound so impressed. It was only to brag with their money that my forefathers bought this house. It's obnoxious extravagant."  
"How old is it?" John couldn't help to be impressed. It _was_ extravagant, but it was too beautiful, for John not to be impressed.  
"The house itself is from the eighteenth century, but my family bought it around the nineteenth century."  
"It's amazing."  
"It's exaggerated." Sherlock sighed. "It was mend to be, so my family will not take it as an insult."  
  


They were walking through the lane, towards the house  
"Your family is  rich. You're rich."  
"You only noticed it now? And I thought that maybe your brain wasn't as slow as everybody else."  
"Is that an complement dressed like an insult, Sherlock?"  
"Maybe"  
"Thank you, I guess. You know what this means, right?"  
"What, John?"  
"You're paying the cab next time."

By that time they had reached the door.  
"Ready?" Sherlock asked, giving John one last chance to quit.  
"Yes, I am. Sort of."  
"Let's do this then." And he rang the doorbell, while putting his arm around John.

"Sir Sherlock, your mother is expecting you in the living area."  
"Of course she is." Sherlock mumbled "Fine, lead us the way James."

"You have a butler. A butler whose name is James. Really?"  
"Yes John, really. His name is James as was his father's, his father's father's and even his father's father's father's. It's a tradition in their family."  
"Well, at least we know who did it when a murder happens."  
"Of course we know, Mycroft and I are here."  
"Sherlock, it's just a joke. It's kind of cliché for the butler to have commit the murder. When we're home again, we're going to play cluedo."  
"You'll lose every time."

They had reached a wooden door.  
"The living area, sir"  
"Thank you James, you can go now."  
"Yes sir."  
"You know Sherlock, I just realised you treat me the same as you treat your butler."  
"Now, that's not true John, I would never make you call me sir"  
They laughed for a while, trying not to think about the fact that they would have to go in the room some time.

The door slowly opened and it squeaked, making John almost expecting for a terrifying murder coming out. In fact he wasn't _that_ wrong, it was Mycroft.  
"Mummy says that you _are_ allowed to come inside. There's no need to linger here."

"He's right, Sherlock, we'll have to go inside sooner or later, than it better be sooner, don't you think."  
"You're probably right. Let's go inside and spread our love, my dear."  
John didn't know if it was the feeling of being back in his childhood house, or just the nerves, that made Sherlock try to make jokes, but he kind of liked it. That was until Sherlock decided that the message would make a clearer statement by kissing John on the cheek. And the reason he didn't like it was because it wasn't normal for Sherlock to be that sweet, or to act like a love struck fool. It was because it was abnormal for him to receive a kiss, even if it was just a peck on the cheek, from his flat mate. There were many reason why he didn't like it, but the shivers that he felt till his little toe, weren't the one of them.

-xxx-

"Dear John Watson, I'm so pleased to meet you. I've heard so many things about you."  
Sherlock's mother was nothing like Sherlock, more like Mycroft. Except for her black curls, those were definitely the same as Sherlock's. But Petronella Holmes was a smart (of course!) but nice and sympathetic woman. John liked her the moment he saw her.  
"Who told you things about me?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Of course it matters, if it was Mycroft, you will have heard almost only bad things, but if Sherlock told you, you will have heard almost certainly only bad things."  
Petronella laughed, Mycroft smiled and Sherlock pouted. John had reached his intention. The ice was broken and the rest of the evening went by smoothly.

Until dinner.  
They were busy finishing their fourth dish (John was just wondering how many would follow, because he was full, but didn't want to be impolite by passing a dish) when Petronella asked John _the_ question.  
"So John, when did you and Sherlock realised you were in love?"  
"Well, Sherlock being Sherlock, realised I was in love with him about five minutes before I did. When he realised his feelings for me, I don't know."  
"The moment I saw you dear. And when I'm being completely honest, the moment I heard you walk in. You sounded so self-assured that I was curious who you were. And the look has never disappointed me so far."   
John was surprised how much Sherlock's acting abilities had progressed, before he could always tell when Sherlock was being sincere, but now, it sounded totally serious. As if  
"And you John, how did you realise?" Petronella asked again, apparently happy with her son's answer.  
"Well, I thought he was attractive and brilliant all the time of course, there's no denying that, but I realised I loved when I realised that I still thought he was more attractive and brilliant than he was annoying. Even when he putted blood in my favourite mug _again_. That I still wanted to stay even when he was being a complete twat, jerk, asshole, prick and a lot of other abusive words, which I will not use, since it would hurt his feelings. It was when I realised I loved him _because of_ instead _despite of_."  
Petronella smiled lovely at his answer and John was happy with it as well. At least it was completely true.  
Wait a minute...  
Damn!!! 


	4. chapter 4

Dinner went by smoothly, giving the circumstances. There were more questions about their relationship, but the big ones had already passed and Sherlock could handle most of them himself, leaving John able to think about his very recent discovery. How could he have fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes? "Well, that's one of the easiest questions" he thought "I've just told his mother how."  
'When?' was the next, fairly more difficult question. John couldn't find an answer, but he didn't really need one. It  actually didn't matter when, it was there and, looking back, John couldn't believe he hadn't realized it  before. The strange feeling in his stomach whenever Sherlock touched him, the constant crave for Sherlock's approval and attention, the jealousy for Irene Adler. It was kind of obvious, and if Sherlock was a girl, John would have known his own feelings a whole lot earlier. But there was the hard point: Sherlock was anything _but_ a girl. He was a man, a very attractive man, but still a man.

Even though everybody had always assumed that they were together, John had always claimed he was straight and he had meant it. So what's different about Sherlock? A quick glance to the man answered his question. After all, what wasn't different about Sherlock? So, if Sherlock could be a high-functioning sociopath, then why couldn't John be a straight guy with one exception? And so what if that exception happened to be the before mentioned sociopath. He loved him anyway, so way make it so difficult? He would just go with it and see where it would bring him.

Feeling slightly better after his intern argument, John tried to follow the conversation again. Apparently Sherlock was telling his mother about a date Sherlock and he went on, that involved sharks and Disneyland. John smiled. It was actually a case that John hadn't found the time to blog about, but with a couple of fantasies made up by the great mind of Sherlock Holmes, it sounded like a really romantic date. The story made another question pop up in his mind. Did _Sherlock_ want them to be together? Had he even feelings for John. The more John thought about it, the more worried he became. He remembered how Sherlock once said he didn't do feelings.

The warm feeling he had in his stomach earlier slowly started to slip away. He was wrong: the hardest thing wasn't the fact that he loved another man, but the fact that the other man _couldn't_ love him back. And now he knew how he felt, there was no way for unknowing it. He didn't know if he could live with that. Always wanting more, hoping that every touch meant something. And it never would. Never.

"John love, do you remember that time?" Sherlock took his hand to get his attention and John felt the heat immediately. How couldn't he have noticed how he felt before?  
"John?" Sherlock sensed something was wrong and if John stayed a little longer, Sherlock would know exactly what. He couldn't stay and let him discover, their friendship would be ruined forever.  
He would grab his luggage, take a cab, go to Baker street, pack and leave. He would tell Sherlock he had met someone and wanted to move in with her, but they would still be friends. That Mary he had met earlier was nice and she clearly loved him. Even if he didn't feel the same way, he would have  a reason to stay away from Sherlock. He couldn't deal with having Sherlock so close (too close, since Sherlock hadn't even heard of personal space) but always being too far away.  
John stood up "If you'll excuse me, I don't feel very well. I think I'm going to lay down for a couple of hours."  
"Sure John, don't you want some medicaments?" Petronella asked, already treading him like she would treat her own sons. It touched John and made his decision harder, but also more worth it. Better to leave now then hurt her later.  
"No, I think I've eaten too much. Living with Sherlock has made my stomach get used to the little food Sherlock allows me to eat." He smiled and left, knowing it would be the last time he saw them. Except for Mycroft, he would look for him, listen to what he has to say and agree. And that would really be all, from that moment on, his life would be Sherlock-free. Like he wanted it to be. No, like it _should_ be. He sighed. He was on the losing side _again_.

"John, are you ok?" of course Sherlock had followed him out, the minute after John left.  
"Yes Sherlock, I'm perfectly fine." John knew Sherlock wouldn't believe him, but maybe he let it pass. And apparently he was lucky.  
"Fine" John sighed with relief.  
Until Sherlock proceed  
"I think we should kiss."  
John gulped "What?"  
"I think we should kiss."  
"No Sherlock, I'm not going to kiss you for this idiot little play we are doing. Kissing is something you do with someone you love, someone you want to hold close and snuggle against. Or at least someone you want to spend the night with. _Not_ because you've told your mother you have a boyfriend."  
"I don't see the problem, you love me, don't you."  
Of course he had noticed. How could John be so stupid to think for one minute that he was able to hide something from him.  
"Yes, I love you, but you don't feel the same way about me, so I will not kiss you."  
"Who said I don't feel the same way?"  
"You did. 'I'm Sherlock Holmes, I'm a sociopath, I don't have feelings' remember?" John said starting to get angry. Sherlock wanted to use his feeling just to make their act a little more convincing. He knew Sherlock was insensitive, but he never thought he was selfish as well.  
"Maybe I was wrong."  
"Excuse me?"  
"You heard me. Maybe I was wrong about being a sociopath and don't have feelings. Or for a part. You have always been my exception. And I've been yours. So please listen to me when I say we should kiss."  
"You _want_ us to kiss? Really kiss? Really wanting it? Like in 'I want it because I love you'?"  
"You John, I want us to kiss. And I love you. Don't you?" Sherlock stepped a little closer, feeds already touching.  
"Since when?" John's breath came out more like little pants than actual breaths, could this be real? Could Sherlock really feel the same way? Oh, how he hoped it.  
"Let's just say that I haven't said a word I didn't mean the entire weekend. That includes my declaration of love. I really do love you John, and I'm willing to talk about our feelings later, but for now: _I think we should kiss._ "  
"You know what, Sherlock, I think we should." And he closed the gap

Who would have thought that Sherlock's lips would be so soft. And that his arms would fit so nice around his hips. But most of all who would have thought that he was such a good kisser. Sherlock slipped his tongue between his lips and begged John for entry, which John gladly granted. A little fight for dominance was battled between their tongues. John couldn't suppress the urge and lifted his hands to feel Sherlock's hair. He gasped, Sherlock's curls were so soft. He couldn't believe they hadn't done this before. He slowly tugged the curls, making Sherlock moan softly.  
They slowly moved to the bed, not releasing each other for even a second, to afraid that it would turn out to be a dream.  
"John."  
He felt Sherlock's hand sliding to his jumper, pulling to get it off. He smiled and lifted his arms, making it easier for Sherlock.

"Sherlock, Mummy wants me to inform you and John that we are about to open the Christmas gifts. Are you coming?" Mycroft gasped as he opened the door and saw his little brother and his fake boyfriend exchanging little kisses and loud moans that didn't sounded fake at all  
"Hush Mycroft, like you may have noticed, I'm busy unwrapping the most beautiful gift that there is." His eyes never leaving John's, by now exposed, chest.  
"You think I'm beautiful?" John asked, amazed that a gorgeous man like Sherlock would find _John_ beautiful.  
"The most beautiful man I've ever seen, my dear, _the_ most beautiful."  
"Thank you."  
"I love you."  
"I love you too."  
Mycroft coughed softly making clear he was still standing there. "Are you coming?"  
"Yes we are." John answered.  
"No, we're not. John I would like to spend some more time with you, now that we can use it so differently." Sherlock mockingly snapped back, sliding his hand across John's chest, showing his ideas of how they could use their time _now_.  
"As much as I would like that, I like your mother as well and I would hate it to let her down. Besides, we've got tonight, haven't we? And the night after that and every night that follows, so don't worry and let's go downstairs. Let's see how much time you need this time to deduce what gift I got you. Record's 30 seconds wasn't it?"  
"29 seconds to be correct, but fine. But you better prepare yourself Mycroft and buy you some earplugs, since you are sleeping in the next room. I will unwrap John completely tonight. With no compassion." Directing the last part to John, Sherlock grinned. Tonight would be one of the best nights of his life.  
Mycroft smiled. His little brother was happy, and so was he. But he would have to have the big-brother-talk with John later. Because if he hurt his little brother, he would...  
Mycroft stopped and looked how John stared at Sherlock. John wouldn't hurt him! He couldn't, even if he wanted to. Maybe he should have the talk with Sherlock instead, making clear what John will and will not like, in real life and, if Sherlock would need that sort of advice, in bed. His little brother, in love. May the heaven be praised!  
  



	5. epilogue

_One year later_

"John will you just relax."  
"No Sherlock, I will not relax. It's Christmas, your mother and Mycroft are coming over, this place is a mess and you have been lying on the couch all day."  
Sherlock looked around. It had never been this clean in their flat before. He had put all his experiments away, had picked up his clothes that were still there from last night, he had hung a picture off John and himself over the  gunshots in the wall. He had even bought a new television, since he had destroyed their last one for an experiment that involved cats, water and electricity. Don't ask, it was for a case. The floor was visible and that was for the first time since he had moved in. _He_ couldn't see what was wrong, but knowing John like he did by now, he knew that John wouldn't relax until Mummy and Mycroft would have gone home.  
"John, Mummy won't even look at how our house looks. She will be happy enough that you are still in here and haven't decided that I was too much trouble. So if she _will_ think it's a mess, she will blame me for throwing everything on the floor, or for giving you too much to deal with, and that's the reason why you aren't able to clean. And let's be honest, she right in both cases. And for Mycroft, well he has seen this place much worse. Don't worry, my dear."  
Most of the time it worked when he nicknamed his boyfriend, but apparently this was a special occasion. He only didn't know why. Well, he _was_ the world's only consulting detective, it would be a piece of cake to find it out.

He stood up and walked to John, where he circled his arms around John's waist, like he had done that that day on the train station and so many times again by now. He loved the feeling of John in his arms and John would love to feel how much Sherlock cares about him (John's words, not his.) and let himself relax in his arms.

"Why are you freaking out? You've met Mummy last year and Mycroft is here more then you or I wish. There is nothing special about it." OK, not his best trick to discover the truth, but he knew in John's case it was more of a guarantee for success than using manipulation. That would only make John angry.  
John sighed and putted his head against Sherlock's shoulder.  
"I know, but last year we weren't in love." Sherlock tensed his muscles around his waist. "Alright, maybe we were, but I didn't realise it but for the last night. And then we made so much noise the neighbours from 3 kilometres complained." He quickly added. "I just really want to impress your mother. As a decent boyfriend. After all, I am the one who's dating her baby boy."  
Sherlock laughed "John I think it's safe to say we're in a relationship by now. Dating is for children and desperate grown-ups. We're neither one of those."  
"I don't know Sherlock, you _can_ behave like a little child sometimes."  
They smiled together, happy to have this moment with each other.

"If this isn't the right moment, there will never be a right moment." Sherlock thought.  
"John wait here, right here and don't move a finger." He said before running to their room.  
John smiled. He had no idea what Sherlock was planning this time, but as long as it wouldn't make a mess in their just cleaned flat, he could deal with it.

Sherlock bounced of the stairs, not surprised to see that John actually hadn't moved a finger. John would always say it was part army training, part Sherlock, which had made him so patiently.

Sherlock was actually getting nervous. Having a great mind, like he had, wasn't always a gift, since he would always see twenty different scenarios. It was useful in cases, but terrible in moments like these. But he had to do it. After all, John loved him, he had said so on different occasions, so he wouldn't refuse him. It was for John as much as for himself and he would do everything for John. So this as well. For John's happiness. And for his own.

"John please sit down."  
"Why? What's going on? What have you done? Sherlock what are you planning?"  
"Just sit down, please. It's important to me and you are going to like it as well."  
"Fine." John answered unsure if he would have to punish Sherlock. On Christmas and their anniversary. Better first listen to what Sherlock wants to say.  
Sherlock was still surprised how much John trusted him. It made him feel warm inside.  
"John, I know we've only known each other for two years and been together for just one, but for me that's a long time to be with someone, without getting bored or annoyed.  
And after all this time, I still love waking up next to you and I love making love to you, and I love your tea and I love your jumpers and in general, I just love you and I don't think that will ever change. Actually I'm sure that it will ever change. So" he knelt down on one knee and took a velvet box out his trousers and opened it. "John Hamish Watson, will you do me the great honour of marrying me?"  
"Yes, yes, yes, yes Sherlock, yes" John said with tears in his eyes "yes"

He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and kissed him deeply, not planning on letting go for some time.

One hour later they were still lying together in bed.  
"We'll have to clean the house, you know that right?"  
"Why? Hadn't we agreed that the house is clean enough?"  
"For my _boyfriend's_ mother it may is, but for my _fiancée's_ mother it most certainly isn't."

And there would be fights like there used to be, there would be insults, there would be slamming doors. There would be lonely nights when John didn't come from Harry. Sherlock would spend a lot of nights on the couch, when he had forgot to tell that there were toxic experiments in the fridge. But to be honest, he looked forward to all of that, because that's how he and John worked and he wouldn't want to live without any of that. And after talking and everything else they would do to solve their fights, there would always be the amazing make-up sex, the one for which Sherlock would probably leave some heads in the fridge on purpose.

 And after the wedding everything would be like he wants it to be: he and his John, for now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was the first multi-chapter story I've ever written. Thanks for reading it and I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://dreamy-pie.tumblr.com/)


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